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Pitt smiled and nodded at the glass. "You cheated. You came prepared."
"I've hung around you long enough to know your solemn secret." She fetched a second glass and passed it to him. "For a price I won't tell the world the big, dauntless daredevil of the dismal depths prefers champagne over beer."
"I drink them both," Pitt protested.
"If she tells the boys down at the local saloon," said Giordino in a serious tone, "you'll be laughed out of town."
"What is it going to cost me?" Pitt asked, acting subdued.
Loren gave him a very sexy look indeed. "We'll negotiate that little matter later tonight."
Giordino nodded at the open Sea of Cortez boating book. "Find any likely prospects?"
"Out of nearly a hundred islands in and around the Gulf that rise at least fifty meters above the sea, I've narrowed it down to two probables and four possibles. The rest don't fit the geological pattern."
"All in the northern end?"
Pitt nodded. "I didn't consider any below the twenty-eighth parallel."
"Can I see where you're going to search?" asked Loren, as she laid out a variety of cold cuts, cheeses, smoked fish, a loaf of sourdough bread, coleslaw, and down-home potato salad.
Pitt walked to a closet, pulled out a long roll of paper and spread it on the kitchen counter. "An enhanced picture of the Gulf. I've circled the islands that come closest to matching Yaeger's translation of the quipu."
Loren and Giordino put down their drinks and examined the photo, taken from a geophysical orbiting satellite, that revealed the upper reaches of the Sea of Cortez in astonishing detail. Pitt handed Loren a large magnifying glass.
"The definition is unbelievable," said Loren, peering through the glass at the tiny islands.
"See anything resembling a rock that doesn't look natural?" asked Giordino.
"The enhancement is good, but not that good," answered Pitt.
Loren hovered over the islands Pitt had circled. Then she looked up at him. "I assume you intend to make an aerial survey of the most promising sites?"
"The next step in the process of elimination."
"By plane?"
"Helicopter."
"Looks to me like a pretty large area to cover by helicopter," said Loren. "What do you use for a base?"
"An old ferryboat."
"A ferry?" Loren said, surprised.
"Actually a car/passenger ferry that originally plied San Francisco Bay until 1957. She was later sold and used until 1962 by the Mexicans from Guaymas across the Gulf to Santa Rosalia. Then she was taken out of service. Rudi Gunn chartered her for a song."
"We have the admiral to thank," Giordino grunted. "He's tighter than the lid on a rusty pickle jar."
"1962?" Loren muttered, shaking her head. "That was thirty-six years ago. She's either a derelict by now or in a museum."
"According to Rudi she's still used as a work boat," said Pitt, "and has a top deck large enough to accommodate a helicopter. He assures me that she'll make a good platform to launch reconnaissance flights."
"When search operations cease with daylight," Giordino continued to explain, "the ferry will cruise overnight to the next range of islands on Dirk's survey list. This approach will save us a considerable amount of flight time."
Loren handed Pitt a plate and silverware. "Sounds like you've got everything pretty well under control.
What happens when you find what looks like a promising treasure site?"
